A Vacation in Paris
by Faye Dartmouth
Summary: Michael's not the only one who loves Paris.


Title: A Vacation in Paris

Disclaimer: I do not own Chaos.

A/N: Beta by **sockie1000**. Outsider POV. With background Michael/Fay (and implied Billy/OFC). Preseries.

Summary: Michael's not the only one who loves Paris.

-o-

"You're overreacting."

Marisa huffed, fiddling with her straw. "I'm not overreacting."

Across from her, Garret was exasperated. "You're totally exaggerating."

"No, you just want to say that so you can discredit my feelings and not have to deal with them," Marisa countered with a bit of a sneer. "If I'm exaggerating, then you don't have to be held accountable for the fact that you've been a totally closed off jackass."

Garret groaned. "How can I be a totally closed off jackass when I brought you to Paris?"

Marisa made a face. "You came here on work and I had enough miles to come for free," she said. "Don't act like you've been a saint."

"Well, no one else brought their girlfriends."

"Yeah, and you work with a bunch of emotionally repressed idiots who are going to be single and miserable until they're 40 and they finally realize that playing video games is not the secret to happiness."

Garret's face darkened. "Oh, and acting like a self-righteous bitch is?"

Marisa made a face. "Ah, there it is. Mr. Boyfriend of the Year."

Garret rolled his eyes. "You have this idea in your head of what guys are like, but that's not really the way it is," he said. "Guys don't bond. Guys don't harbor deep feelings of affection for other guys. They aren't thoughtful unless they want someone to put out."

"So guys are dicks," Marisa concluded.

"Basically."

"And I'm supposed to feel better about this?" she asked indignantly.

"No, you're supposed to realize that I'm not so bad," he said. "I mean, I brought you to Paris. We've gone out on dates and I've taken fifty bazillion pictures. What do you want?"

Marisa sighed in frustration. "That," she said, pointing to a table across the cafe. "I want that."

At the table, a woman was sitting, sipping coffee. Her dark hair was curly and wild, and the deep blue dress was nothing short of stunning, the rich hues vibrant against her skin. Her face was bright, eyes twinkling as she lifted her cup again to her mouth, the understated diamond on her ring finger catching the sunlight.

The man across from her was much less to look at. There was nothing noteworthy in his appearance, and his simple suit jacket was nondescript. There were heavier lines across his forehead, which seemed to age him, but his eyes were fixed on the woman.

And not just fixed - transfixed. He was entirely attuned to her. Completely absorbed. Even just drinking her coffee, he seemed to be minutely aware of everything she did. He knew when she blinked, when she took a breath, when she shifted. His mouth twitched upward in a smile the second before hers did, and before she could even put her empty cup of coffee down, he had called for a waiter to refill her cup.

"See," Marisa said. "It's not just about going through the motions. It's about the total commitment. It's about the way you make a woman feel. You don't have to be hot or sexy or perfect - you just have to make us believe that we're the center of your universe."

Garret turned back at her and snorted. "You actually think that's what he's thinking?"

"It's obvious!" Marisa insisted. "_Look_ at him."

"All I see is a schmuck who got snookered into taking his girl to Paris."

Marisa grunted, shaking her head as she pushed her chair back. "That's nice," she said. "And all I see is a schmuck is going to spend Paris playing video games with a bunch of immature assholes."

"Whoa," Garret said. "We're sharing a room!"

"In my name," Marisa said. "I'm sure one of the guys will take you in."

"Marisa-" Garret protested. "This is the city of love!"

"It's the city of light, moron," she said. "And I think I can probably still find some love. There's a Scotsman down the hall who was _very_ friendly at the ice machine. Maybe I'll see if he has the same level of idiocy as you do."

With that, she stormed out and with the image of the happy couple (and the promise of a nimble Scotsman) in mind, she didn't look back. 


End file.
